Happy Valentine’s!
Holidays
As 2011 Slips Quietly Away …
Some people are undoubtedly getting ready for a night out this evening; others are spending it quietly at home. For some the year goes out with much ado, for others a New Year softly beckons. As I sit and listen to the album Kindred by Kevin Wood, one of my favorites, I find myself simply looking forward to a bit of reflection … how to move towards some of my goals in the coming year, difficult choices that may need to be made, things that have transpired over the last year, and others to which I look forward in the coming year. Nothing especially profound or any different from what you might be thinking.
But I did want to leave this one thought with you as 2011 comes to a close, a quote by Robert Brault:
“Do something each day that makes you feel guilty for wasting your time.”
If we don’t take moments to be kind to ourselves, then to whom?
Happy New Year!
May you find whatever peace and happiness you seek in 2012.
Haunted by the Ghost of Christmas Past
You’ll not find ghosts dragging chains in this post, nor anything Dickensian at all. But you will find this question.
Do you find, as you’ve gotten older, that despite all the logic you can muster, you still somehow expect that Christmas will have the sparkle, magic and excitement it had for you as a child?
Times certainly change as we grow up, and unless you have children for whom you are creating a magical Christmas, it’s a very different holiday. We’re often called upon to create that Christmas magic ourselves, whether it be reaching out to family and friends, planning get-togethers and holiday meals, organizing trips and travel and so on. It’s so very different than rushing into the living room Christmas morning to see what Santa has put under the tree.
Ah, for the innocent days of nothing to do but smell Christmas cookies being baked, (and maybe helping), watch the house come alive with sparkling lights, watch presents magically appearing, and dream of snow on Christmas day.
So now we’re all grown up. There’s a different pleasure in trimming the house, putting up a tree and baking something fabulous. We’ve found the perfect gifts for those we love, and are warmed by the good humor of friends and family. In fact, one of the best gifts we can give or receive is always a heartfelt smile.
And THAT … from whomever it comes … is often just what’s needed to chase away the ghost of Christmas past. Need a smile? Here … have one from me.
And Merry Christmas!
The Candy Cane Cartel
One of the items on my Christmas shopping list was something my girlfriend’s son can enjoy – traditional peppermint candy canes. He has many allergies, but this is one treat that is worry free. Even so, I wanted to check the package label to hopefully find that they were not made in a facility that also processes dairy and tree nuts, (two of his allergies.)
I was at Target and picked up a nice jumbo-size box of candy canes and looked at the label. Product of Mexico. What? I picked up a different kind, to find that they were by the same manufacturer. And … Product of Mexico. I was floored. Really? Then I looked at an obviously different brand that had a real old-fashioned look and feel to the packaging. On the label … Product of Mexico. WHAT? (If I were the kind of person who said OMG, you could now imagine some strange woman maniacally grabbing every kind of candy cane in the aisles — regardless of ridiculous flavor — and yelling OMG, OMG, OMG.)
But I didn’t. And I didn’t buy any candy canes. I went to my local Shop-Rite. And there, the same old-fashioned packaging again and … Product of Mexico. Since when did the quintessentially traditional Christmas candy start getting made in another country? In truth, I’d rather they be made in Mexico than China, but still … does no one make candy canes in America? I bought a small package of these – the brand is Bobs – in the event I never found anything else.
Then I went to a local shop, (This `N That on the Corner), and checked out some larger individual candy canes. Yes! Made in Ohio! And the manufacturer, Spangler, (see candy cane below right,) had right there on the display box, the simple ingredients and that the candy canes are made on a dedicated machine, (which means no cross-contaminants of potential allergens.) So I grabbed a big handful and was happy to pay a wee bit more, knowing that I’d gotten a safe gift and helped support an American worker and company.
Now here’s the kind of sad thing. I read online the long and detailed history of Bobs Candies. They were established in 1919 in Georgia. They survived the Great Depression, a devastating tornado in 1940 that destroyed their factory, and World War II shortages. Bobs actually introduced the crook in the candy cane. And at the end of this proud history is one line: In 2005, Farley’s & Sathers Candy Company, Inc. acquired Bobs Candies and nothing more. I’m guessing after that is when they started outsourcing the manufacture of their candy canes. Sad, eh?
But there still is Spangler’s, and I suspect there are more American companies making traditional Christmas candy canes. It only seems right.
Update: Christmas 2012 had me looking for Spangler’s again because they’d been made in the USA. On their label this year was “Made in Mexico.” In looking at their web site, I see they “operate a co-manufacturing facility in Juarez, Mexico for the production of commodity candy canes.” Other items are still made in Ohio such as Jelly Belly jelly beans, Skittles and more. The American made candy cane search is on again.
No Coincidences – the Komodo Dragon Comes Home
Here you see something I’ve wanted for quite some time … a handsomely carved Komodo dragon. I spotted him probably two years ago in one of my favorite stores, Two Buttons in Frenchtown. At the time, they had one that was probably 5′ long. I really wanted that one, but didn’t dare look at the price tag. Each time I’ve been in the store, I’ve been powerfully drawn to one of these Komodo dragons. They are hand-carved by an artist in Bali, (I believe), and each is unique. I would hold one, or several in turn, in my hands, feeling a connection I cannot explain.
On the occasion of my birthday this past summer, I was given a check. I was asked to please spend it on something that I really wanted, something special. My immediate thought was of the dragon. And yet I have dallied, contemplating all the things I really need and should do with that money. Do you ever find yourself doing this? 
You are invited to do something or buy something that is unequivocally a treat for yourself, but instead you spend it on something practical, or wrangle endlessly with yourself over it? Like I have. You know, we really need to be good to ourselves, kind to ourselves, to believe that we are deserving of all that is good.
So about a week ago, doing some Christmas shopping in Two Buttons with a friend, I picked up a Komodo dragon, as I had so many times before. He had a different attitude in his posture than I had previously seen. He seemed reflective. And as I held him, once again considering my still unspent birthday money, one of my very favorite Christmas songs played through the store, John Lennon’s So This Is Christmas. And I knew that that Komodo dragon was meant to be mine.
There are no coincidences.
And then this Saturday I met a longtime friend for breakfast. We hadn’t seen each other in a while, and she returned a book to me that I honestly had forgotten I’d lent her — Gratitude, A Way of Life by Louise Hay and other 
luminaries. It’s easy to forget sometimes how much we truly have to be grateful for, and I felt that this book returning to me after such a long time was also no coincidence. Perhaps I really needed to re-examine how much I have to be thankful for in my life. So I’ve decided to read one of the author’s essays on gratitude each day. We can never go wrong being thankful and making it a daily practice.
Most likely you have your own Komodo dragons appearing in your life. They are opportunities to be kind to yourself, to be thankful, to even find moments of peace. Take them.
Let there be peace on earth. And let it begin with me. – Jill Jackson Miller
Still A Dreamer 